A Long Way from Nirn
by satrinity
Summary: A priestess of Akatosh from High Rock is thrown into another universe when a mishap with the Thalmor and an elder scroll causes a dragon break, landing her on the side of the highway in where-the-heck-am-I America.
1. Chapter 1

I_** do not own Supernatural or the Elder Scrolls Series, nor am I making any sort of money off of this. This fanfiction is being written purely for my own enjoyment, and to improve upon my skills as a writer.**_

Not many people had witnessed it- the entire enigma that made up this girl. So far, it had been but a few; a handful of nurses, a doctor or two, the good samaritans that had brought the pitiful thing in that afternoon- and a rather unlucky man with a broken thumb, who had stood a little too close to the thick, swinging doors in the emergency room as said samaritans thrust them open to rush her in.

A nurse had immediately called for a gurney to be brought in and for her to be laid out upon it. She was bleeding from a wound to her head, as well as large cuts that sang of untold violence that had been inflicted here. There was no telling how long she would last without treatment, so action was immediate. They took her away to the ICU as one of her saviors spoke in rushed tones to the woman behind the counter, handing over an armload of effects that had been on or near the girl when they had found her lying on the side of the highway just outside of town.

The gashes were the first to be treated- no one said it, but those alone may have ended the life of an average person. Somehow, though...

If you stared long enough, you could almost watch as flesh knit together. Not that they noticed- far too much going on to stand there and stare at a patient's side for a half hour. The most that they noticed was that she was not bleeding nearly as much. Naturally, they assumed that she was suffering severe blood loss- the idea that she may have healed before their eyes, blood clotting and the wounds self- disinfecting, was ludicrous. They didn't think to glance to the ornate silver ring that sat upon her first right finger, to notice that it had a faint red hue that seemed to strengthen as the healing picked up in pace...

... nor did they take away the slightly gaudy necklace that hung around her pale, slender neck, the green emeralds and red rubies glimmering as the Necklace of Resist Poison rejected and destroyed the artificial anesthesia that they had put her under.

Barely an hour into surgery, she showed signs of waking, forcing the doctor supervising the operation to have to increase her dose. Fearing that she would wake and compromise her own state of well-being, only the worst of the damage was attended to. Gashes were stitched, her broken leg was set and a rather large dose of pain killer was administered for her concussion, which needed little in the way of attention, fortunately.

After one of the most grueling hours that the doctor had ever endured- and the most impromptu and rushed surgeries that most of the interns had seen as of yet- the girl was left to rest in the ICU, with a nurse scheduled to come in later to change her into proper hospital attire and store the rest of her things for her.

Of course, they never could have expected her to wake before even that hour was up.

Bright green eyes opened to an unfamiliar, white room. They filled with one emotion after another, surprise, confusion, anger, fear, more anger- then settled on rage as she jumped to the conclusion that her enemies had captured her. The last bid to escape had failed, all was lost- and she was damn well not going down without a fight.

Something was missing, though...

"Where...?" she hissed as she mentally smacked herself; of course they would not have left it out, where she could find it. They had killed for it, and would most likely kill her for information on the others.

But, wait- she could feel it. How, she did not know- but there it was. A pulse of power, somewhere above her.

She started to move, only to find something restricting her- a pain in her elbow, leading her to discover what seemed to be a metal dart of some kind, with a clear, flexible tube attached to it. Liquid filled the tube, then emptied onto the white sheets as she carefully extracted the thing from her arm.

With no small amount of rage, she realised that they had been poisoning her- making her pliable enough for their methods, she was sure. Blood seeped from the prick in her arm, which she ignored in favor of swinging her legs out of the bed and slowly making her way to the doorway.

"Off their game," she muttered to herself. The idiots not only had neglected to restrain her, but had left her with both her necklace and her Ring of Greater Regeneration. It was no wonder that she had survived her wounds, which she could feel the bite of as the poison wore off and she strained them.

Just as she limped over to the doorway, a woman rounded the corner; she sported loose-fitting clothing the color of the sea and a similarly shaded mask that covered her nose and mouth. She balked in surprise as she met the girl's determined visage- as delirious as the waning medication was making her, she was still a bit intimidating, even being a head shorter than the nurse.

"Oh-? You shouldn't be up yet," the woman tried. "Come on, off to bed with you-"

Unluckily for her, the combination of her covered face and the slight accent that sounded vaguely familiar to the girl set the patient off. Not without a fight, she repeated to herself, before clenching her fists and taking a step forward.  
"Bloody Thalmor!" she exclaimed as she reared back and punched the woman full on in the face.

In the moment of shock from the woman and the nurses at the station just outside the door, the girl had already ducked past, rounded the corner and ascended half a flight of stairs. The intercom blared to life with a plea for security to hurry to the ICU, but she was already dashing through the next floor, bowling over patients and visitors, nurses, doctors- even a psychotherapist who had been discussing the latest breakthrough in his field with a colleague was not spared, and he quickly joined the chase- he was actually used to this, with the clientel that he normally dealt with.

Her side bled freely once again, leaving a clear trail to follow- as if the destruction in her wake was not enough- and her leg screamed in agony, but still she ran.

As she came upon another desk, she skidded to a halt and vaulted over it- albeit a bit unsteadily- then dug down beneath it to a box, her prize sticking out from its top. Without even a moment to wonder why the Thalmor would simply leave something like this lying around, she clutched it to herself, hatred for the object seeping through the rage that clouded her mind.

It was this thing's fault that she was here. It was this THING's fault that so many of the others back at the temple were dead.

As of now, though, it was her duty to protect it, at least until she could get it back to-

"Hey! Stop right there!"

She glanced up with narrowed eyes to find a small crowd before her, pointing strange devices at her that she knew could mean nothing good. Since when did the Thalmor ally with men, though...? They did not look like they were all Imperials, which would be a little more understandable, but...

"Put the... whatever that is... down, and step out with your hands up," commanded a large-ish man in a black- and- blue uniform of sorts. He looked to be a redguard, but even with the fragility of their alliance with the elves, she could trust no one here.

She held a hand out in front of her and willed it to burst into flame, readying a fireball...

**A/N: **I'm back, and full of ideas. I know that it's been awhile since I've posted anything, but I'm going to try to keep up with a schedule on this one. R&amp;R, and tell me what you think! All forms of criticism are welcome. Don't worry, I can take it.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Did they change the document editor on this site while I was slacking- um, I mean studiously researching the ES series for this story? Seriously, I couldn't find the spell check- plus I still have yet to find a decent writing program that my computer doesn't bug out on. Oh well...**

**Also, so much for keeping a schedule. It took me, what, a week to start working on other things? Like THREE more ES stories and a FNAF fic that I may or may not post. I could blame work... but this was just pure procrastination here. Considering the fact that I lost the original chapter for this, though, I think that it went really well. I've got to get to bed, but I wanted to upload SOMETHING today, so this is a short taste of what's to come. It's pretty much all exposition, but the next one will not only be twice as long but will also (finally) give you an idea as to who the heck this chick is and what her damn problem is.**

**Thank you for reading- I'm happy with even seeing that it was visited in the traffic stats. ^w^ Reviews are nice and all, but it's good to know that it's getting some attention. Let me know what you think and don't be afraid to tell me what sucks- I need to know these things if I want to become a better writer. (Also, I'll work on shorter AN's from now on- this will probably be the longest one in the story unless something makes one necessary.)**

White halls met two men in dark suits as the heavy metal doors shut firmly behind them, blocking most of the natural light and leaving the entry hall in a dreary state. It was about on par for a mental institution like this one, of course; The artificial environment and lack of stimulation would serve to calm any patients that were brought out here, making the nurse's jobs that much easier- not that that made much difference to them. They were still putting their lives at risk just by setting foot in this place.

The two men seemed, understandably, uncomfortable as they made their way to the desk behind which a nervous looking nurse of no more than twenty sat. She couldn't help but feel that way herself, and she came here nearly every day, she thought as she took the visitors in. One was a bit taller than the other, while the shorter had a more gruff and worldly look to him- not that they both weren't a bit intimidating. She was having a hard time telling which was older, though.

The shorter of the two grinned as she asked for identification, and she nearly rolled her eyes right then and there as he tried flirting with her- she got that enough from Paul from English Lit, thank you very much.

She accepted their identification and let them through, giving the head psychologist a quick call to tell him that the FBI had finally arrived.

"Agents Venkman... Spengler...? Thank you for coming on such short notice..."

The two 'agents' nodded, and the older- _and_ shorter- of the two shook the doctor's hand firmly. "So, what seems to be the problem here? We didn't get many details before heading out here."

The other shot his partner a look, then turned back to the doctor. "We were told about an incident involving some sort of pyromaniac. Could you elaborate a bit?"

The man seemed to suddenly lose a bit of his composure, and glanced around him as if to ensure that they would not be overheard. "Follow me, gentlemen, if you would...?"

Both were obviously suspicious- that much was clear by the near identical frowns that they wore at his whispers- but they relented and followed him down the hall if only to get some answers. Once they were in the relative safety of the man's office, which seemed a bit less opulent than any that they had seen before in an asylum (there had been quite a few, unfortunately- it came with the job) he seemed to deflate a little. 'Agent Spengler-'- the taller of the two- realized that he had been making the effort to put up a front. This was probably to calm his staff, ensuring that the facility would run as it normally did. This was probably a good thing; an off day for Southern Hills Institution for the Criminally Insane was a nightmare for its administrator and worse for the others that worked there. The place _really_ didn't need any more negative publicity, either.

"The... incident occurred yesterday, in the morning. We did the best that we could to cover it up and moved the situation here to better address it. Nobody at the hospital is going to say anything for fear that it will bring... well, _you _down on them. This is a small community, after all, and we already had a fairly strict 'don't ask, don't tell' policy with the local police, I'm sorry to say. You know the sort of people that we keep here, so I'm sure that you gentlemen understand."

"Of course," the agent replied, though his tone said otherwise.

The good doctor didn't seem to notice, though. "The official story is what you have probably heard- home grown terrorist attack, various man-made fire bombs used against a few people, a few badly burned, no fatalities and the perpetrator was brought here until the police could handle her due to our proximity to the hospital. That is what the public knows... and is, well, only a sliver of the truth."

"We wouldn't be here if that was all there was to it," the other agent supplied. This was true; their... _contact_ wouldn't have received the tip and sent them here if this was a normal case.

"There were no fire bombs, and she was not a 'terrorist', or at least I don't believe that she was. She is either sick or confused- and, as crazy as I know that this will sound, she shot those fire balls from her _hands_."

Both men froze, unsure if they had heard correctly. "Her... hands," agent Spengler parroted, frowning.

"Yes."

Agent Venkman 'Hmm'd and pulled the other closer to whisper something to him; the rushed conversation was a bit distressing to the doctor, if the wary glances that they cast from time to time were anything to go on. "I can take you to her," he supplied in despiration; they could not keep her there forever, and she was far too dangerous to set free. "We have her under constant supervision, and we have a box of her belongings that also contained a few strange items. Please... I don't know what else to do with this woman. You people are much better suited to take care of someone like her. She is a hazard as long as she is under this roof."

The two men argued for a moment, then turned back. The shorter man seemed a bit disgruntled, but he replied calmly. "Let's see what you've got. We'll decide what needs to be done from there.

The doctor sighed in relief and led the two out into the hall. "She is this way," he prompted, showing the way.

The two men fell behind slightly and bumped shoulders roughly as they exited the room. The shorter cast the taller an annoyed glare.

"Bitch," one provoked as the other muttered, "Jerk"...


	3. Chapter 3

**(I do not own TES or Supernatural, nor do I make any money from this. The fanfiction that follows is for my own enjoyment and to better myself as a writer.)**

**A/N: Story progression! Yay!**

**Not nearly as much as I'd like, though.**

**Many thanks to everyone who favorited and followed, and a big thanks to my first reviewer, Chocoluv99! I appreciate your enthusiasm, and hope that I don't disappoint.**

**Onward!**

* * *

"There was... one other thing," the good doctor murmured to the two men following him as they came to what appeared to be a storage room of sorts. All sorts of things that probably did not belong near any of the patients in this place occupied a few neat rows of white boxes that sat on two plain shelves.

Knives, matches and at least a dozen crumpled cigarette packages were among these things- the larger or more messy items were across from this, either covered with a plastic sheet or, in the case of what appeared to be the exploded remains of a once proud paint set, wrapped in layers of clear garbage bags. (These sported notes stating whether they were to be thrown away, or if they had some further usefulness still.)

One box- well, two really- sat apart from all of this rabble. They contained items that could not be seen from the men's vantage point at the door. The thing that drew attention to these specific items was very difficult to miss: a long box, one that most probably housed a poster set of some kind at one point, sat atop the other box lengthwise. It was wrapped in garish orange tape with the word 'HAZARD' plastered across it like some sort of miniature crime scene.

The doctor cleared his throat and glanced at the box briefly, then returned his attention to the FBI agents again. "This... thing should probably go with you as well. It was with her when she arrived at the hospital, and she fought tooth and nail to get it back after she woke up-"

"-woke up?" agent Spengler interrupted. "She was unconscious when she arrived?"

"She had suffered a concussion and quite a bit of strain, none of which we know the cause of. She had to be operated on as soon as she came in for lacerations and broken bones. She shouldn't have been able to talk after that much anesthesia- let alone up and running around, screaming about 'elves'."

Agent Venkman opened his mouth to ask about the last part, but the doctor continued obliviously. "After the security guards sedated her and they began making preparations to transport her here, I gathered her belongings and tried my best to find some form of identification. My colleague and I had been there during the scuffle and agreed that we should try to find out what we could before the government covered anything up. He was the one who picked up the scroll and opened it..."

The doctor trailed off, his shoulders shaking as he shuddered. The two agents craned to see the box again- scrolls, as they had learned over time, usually meant either very good things or extremely bad ones. This one was fairly obvious.

"What... happened to the other guy?" Agent Venkman was getting the feeling that he really didn't want to know, but they needed to know regardless.

The doctor took a moment to compose himself, then slowly trudged over to the box and lifted it gingerly, holding it out to the men. After a second's hesitation, Spengler took it. He handled the thing like a live grenade.

"There was a flash- I didn't see from where because I had turned away- and a lot of screaming. When the thing shut itself and he dropped it, his eyes had turned nearly white and he would not stop repeating 'No' over and over again. After I calmed him down, we found that he had lost all sight in both of his eyes and had become... unhinged. He speaks nothing but some strange language of gibberish now that I have never encountered before and doesn't seem to recognize any of our voices here- not even his wife could get through to him.

After all of that," the doctor concluded, "I want nothing more than to wash my hands of this. Richard's mind is not going to recover- we can all see it. I will not endanger anyone else with that... thing... and if that means never knowing the truth about the girl or the scroll, then I can live with that."

* * *

The trio exited the room of a patient that the agents had asked to see, the two of them casting nervous glances backward as they thought of the implications that had arisen in the short time that they had been here so far.

"Well?" the older of the two whispered roughly.

The other shook his head. "I don't know, Dean- it wasn't any language that I've ever heard before."

"Shit, you're kidding me. You're a living encyclopedia, Sammy. How the hell-"

"This wasn't anything that I've ever read or heard. Not even from anything that we've hunted. Listen, Dean, I've got it recorded- we'll let Bobby hear it. If he hasn't heard of it-"

"... then it's just some crazy asshole after all," the older of the two brothers finished with a huff. He was not happy about this in the least; they had been expecting a quick investigation here, not... whatever this even was.

Seriously- since when were they handed everything that they needed on a silver platter? Something wasn't right.

"What about this girl, then-?" Sam pressed. "What do you thing she is?"

"I dunno, but whatever it is it probably isn't kosher- especially given the damn equipment that it was packing." True, the story about the scroll had thrown them both off, but it had been clear that the girl was after it. That, they decided, couldn't be good. She was probably a demon or a witch-

\- or she could just be some kid in a hospital nightie, curled up in the corner of a room.

This was exactly what was revealed to them as the heavy door opened onto the room. She was small- maybe five feet tall and a hundred pounds soaking wet. Olive hued eyes, heavy with the effects of a mild sedative, glared from beneath short, messy hair that barely came to her ears. She looked for all the world like one of the elves that she had been ranting about or something- her petite figure didn't stop her from giving them a look that suggested bodily harm to the first person to touch her, though.

Both brothers were on their immediate guard- cute was never a good sign.

"This is where we have been keeping her. It was a bit difficult to work out exactly how to confine her safely and humanely, but she has not tried her little... fire trick since the hospital-"

"I said that I was sorry, you n'wah," the girl muttered venomously. She even sounded out of it; any fireballs that she tossed would probably have sailed right over their heads with her in this state.

The doctor shook his head and sighed. "She is, as you can see, a bit out of it. We thought that that would be best for you to transport her-"

"-whoa, whoa, transport? Now? I thought that you would give us a day to prepare or something."

The doctor recoiled slightly from the elder brother. "We cannot continue putting our other patients at risk. I understand that you people like to take these things slowly, but-"

"-but nothing. We don't have the time for-"

"Never mind him, we'll make sure that she's out of here today."

Both the doctor and the not-agent turned on Sam, one pleased, the other decidedly not. Sam pulled his brother off to the side slightly. "It's not like we can just leave her here- we have a perfect opportunity to get these people away from the danger, and I think that we should take it."

Dean tried multiple times to argue this point with his sibling, but eventually relented. "Fine," he grunted. "She rides in the back, though, and keeps those cuffs on the whole time. And the scroll and that other crap goes in the trunk- we can't risk her getting to it and doing God-knows-what."

Dean didn't miss how she scowled when he mentioned the scroll; obviously, she didn't like the idea of being separated from her little toy. "If she burns my baby," he growled to Sam, "I'm going to kick your ass."

"Capitol!" the doctor exclaimed, making the girl flinch. "I'll get another round of sedative and we will help you get her to your- ah, car? Van? What have you." The man was considerably more cheerful not that he knew that this ordeal was nearly over. "My assistant brought the box and the scroll to the front desk while you interviewed Richard earlier. You can get them on your way out-"

"Let me out of these bindings and I will go with you of my own volition."

The sharp tone, albeit a little slurred, caught the attention of everyone else in the room. The girl was sitting up a bit more now, straining her eyes to see them properly through the double vision that had been caused by whatever poison they had given her earlier.

This had been the most direct statement that the doctor had heard from the girl since her arrival here, and he was nervous as to what this meant. Was she awake enough to use that fire trick again? Would she try to run if they listened to her?

Then again, even in her impaired state, she had done all that she could to cooperate since the moment she sobered up at the hospital and realized that she had been tossing fireballs at innocent bystanders. Perhaps...

"Absolutely not," Dean ground out. "Doc, get the tranq, will you?"

Well, that settled that.

As the doctor scurried out the door, Sam glared at his brother. The girl slumped back against the wall, slightly disheartened. "Worth a shot," she said with a half-shrug.

"So..." Sam began, now that the three of them were alone. "Fireballs, huh?"

She rolled her eyes. "Leave it to me to find the one place more anti-magic than Skyrim. It's bloody brilliant." She sighed, then sat up again. " In order: No, I did not mean to hurt them, though that is no excuse. Yes, I can use magic. Yes, I thought that I was being held captive by elves. No, this is NOT the first time that I have heard any of these questions today."

Sam could do nothing but blink for a few seconds. As soon as he recovered, his brow furrowed. "So then, magic is nothing new to you. Have you been able to use it long?"

"Well, only for most of my life," she said, as if it should be obvious. "I wouldn't be a very good breton if I couldn't, would I?"

Dean scoffed. "Breton- you mean those weird crackers?"

The girl was caught off guard by this. "What-?"

The rather unhelpful interrogation was interrupted as the door opened again and the doctor entered, holding a plastic package containing a sterile needle and a small, brown glass bottle.

"One more thing," Sam said quickly as the doctor prepared the needle. "What is your name?"

The girl considered giving the two a false name for a second, but decided against this. What was the point anymore? It's not like she was very recognizable.

"Valera," she said through gritted teeth as the now somewhat familiar sting of a needle pierced her upper arm. "Valera of Wayrest."


	4. Chapter 4

**My uploading schedule is bad and I should feel bad.**

**I am so sorry. I don't know what happened. Thank you so much for staying with me on this.**

* * *

The gentle rocking motion was what woke her up. Val was reluctant to let the gentle embrace of sleep slip from her grasp, but slip it did as a host of unpleasant facts registered in her still bleary mind.

Fact: She tasted something horrible in her mouth that was reminiscent of the time that she had unwittingly taste sampled a swamp fungal pod and found out the hard way that it was in no way a tasty meal.

Fact: She smelled what she could identify as leather, though it was laced with an unpleasant scent- not unlike the various oils that she had known soldiers and battlemages to treat their armor with to keep it supple.

Fact: She was somewhere with windows, if the ungodly amount of sunlight assaulting her squinting eyes was anything to go on.

Her only question now...

"What in Oblivion is that gods forsaken noise?"

Whatever the caterwaul was, it faded to a quiet murmur as soon as she rasped her rather acidic inquiry. With the new found peace, she was able to pull herself together a bit, rubbing her -bound, she soon discovered- hands over her eyes and clearing them a bit. She was seated on some kind of bench-styled seat covered in black leather with a restraint of some sort stretched across her lap. This had to be some sort of carriage, though the speed at which she could see trees and farms passing them outside was a bit alarming. Only the fact that the two in the seats in front of her were calm in the situation kept her from panicking.

The sound from earlier, while much quieter, was still coming from a device between the two. The taller of the two men that she remembered from that asylum sat to the right, his hand on some sort of knob on the unknown box- he was also turned slightly to look back at her with a cautious expression.

"Thank you," she sighed as her headache eased off. With a little chagrin, she realized that another sound was absent- the two men had been having a quiet conversation as she slept, one that she was not able to hear over what she now assumed was music. Thanks to her outburst, they were both now focused on her.

Wonderful.

"I'm guessing that the sedative left you with a little hangover," the man on the left drawled as his eyes flickered between the road before him and a small mirror mounted near the top of the glass panel that protected them from the elements.

"A bit," she agreed. "Whatever alchemist it was that made such a brutal concoction is either untrained or a sadist. That was awful."

"Yeah, I hear you."

She smiled a tight smile- this was a very awkward situation. Neither of them trusted her, or else she would have free use of her hands. They were trying to make an effort in civility, though, for which she was grateful. They knew as little of what to make of her as she did of them.

"I would also like to thank you for helping me, even if it is to your own ends. That place was absolutely dreadful."

"We haven't had much in the way of good experiences with places like that ourselves," the man on the left said- he glanced to his partner and back again, so quickly that she nearly missed it. "Besides, they weren't very prepared for... someone like you."

Val felt like she had swallowed a pound of lead. "Yes, they... did not seem to know much about... magic..."

She honestly would have preferred the awkwardness that had been as opposed to the tense atmosphere that took over the small space as the word left her mouth. "Yeah. Most people don't do magic," the man on the left bit out. "You couldn't explain that one for us now, could you?"

Val winced- this was her term studying theories in magicka with Tolfdir of Winterhold all over again. "I've never been very good at explaining it- for the most part, I go by 'want it, do it'. Comes with being one of the few races of man with natural access to magicka, I suppose."

"'Races' of man... as opposed to those elves that you were talking about?" The man on the left prompted her to elaborate.

"Right- you know, elves. the Mer? High elves, dark elves, wood elves... you have no bloody idea what I'm on about, do you." It was not a question, and the two did not deny her statement in the least.

"Only elves I know about are the ones that make toys and shoes- they're not as nice as they'd have you believe, fyi," he growled.

At this point, Val was pretty sure of something, but she wanted to get a bit more information before jumping to any conclusions. "So, erm... Misters... Venkman and Spengler?"

"Winchester, actually," the driver corrected.

The man on the left nodded to the other. "I'm Sam- he's my brother, Dean."

"... right. Winchesters. Ah... so what you are saying is, there are no elves here- aside from these daft sounding toy makers. I suppose there are no beast folk here, either. No Argonians or Kajiit?"

"Not that we are aware of," Dean confirmed.

She swallowed hard. "W-where, exactly, are we? Country, continent... _world..._?"

Sam, getting the gist of her fear, gave her a searching look before replying. "United States of America. Earth."

She nodded, then bent low enough to place her face in her bound hands and elected to not think for awhile.

* * *

_:Sam: The names sound even MORE stupid when you say them out loud._

_:Dean: Shut up, Sammy._

* * *

**Special thanks to Chocoluv99- you might seriously be the only person reading this right now, but I'll keep posting!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Another day, another chapter. Enjoy~**

After the hour long car ride, the last fifteen minutes of which had been silent despite a few attempts to get Val to talk to them again, the sign proclaiming that they were entering Sioux Falls was a welcome sight to everyone. To Sam and Dean, it meant that they were nearing the one person (who they trusted, at least) that could help them find out more about this girl. Val simply decided that their relief was a good sign and went with it.

They had not stopped for gas since passing over the state line into South Dakota, so a pit stop was made before they reached their destination. The Impala was nearly running on fumes, and there was not a spare can of gas anywhere to be found at the moment- a precaution from Dean, who was already nervous enough about transporting the alleged fireball-toting madwoman around in his baby. The only things that were in the main compartment of the vehicle out of their normal supplies were an abundance of holy water and rock salt- most of which was hidden strategically around the girl, unbeknownst to her. Thus, they pulled into the town's small fuel station with trepidation and a keen eye focused on Val.

She sat up and was instantly more alert as they pulled to a stop, taking in their surroundings without the motion sickness that she had started to feel before. Dean gave his brother a hard look and sent a quick glance back to their 'prisoner', before closing the door and going inside to make their purchase. Sam nodded to him as he passed the front of the car, then turned back to Val.

"We'll be back on the road soon- we aren't far now," he offered, trying to spark some sort of conversation out of her.

Now that they were stationary, Val looked a bit less wilted, although she still suffered a bit of shock from the earlier revelation. Even to one as used to magic and the strange effects that it could have on the world, the news that you are no longer anywhere near your own home world was hard to wrap the mind around. "This place... it is strange," she mused, guessing what Sam was after. "It seems to be much more advanced than Nirn. These... cars... are a very good example. I have never traveled by anything other than ship and horseback. Do they run on steam?"

Sam frowned. "Ah- no. They run on gas, which is derived from oil. It's pumped from the ground and refined, then is burned to create enough energy to move the vehicle."

"I know what oil is, though I have not worked with it aside from a few pots of dwarven oil that I received as a test sample when I was taught basic alchemy."

He scoffed a bit, though more in surprised skepticism than anything offensive. "Dwarven- like dwarves. You have dwarves in Nirn?"

"Had," she corrected. "They have been gone for ages. No one knows what truly happened to them. The most advanced race in our world- every one of them disappeared inexplicably."

He nodded. "You said that there were elves, too?"

"About as many elves as any other race, yes. Though, they certainly don't make toys- not unless that's a family trade they were roped into, of course. There are as many different types of elves as there are humans."

"Different types of humans?" Sam asked, looking for clarification.

Val jumped slightly as a thud sounded just outside the window- she looked out to find Dean leaning up against the side of the car. A long hose of some sort reached from a spot next to him to some kind of metal contraption that he was staring at with disinterest Val frowned, but dismissed the sight as being normal- the other two were not worried. "There are a few different races of man. The Nords are stronger than most and have a natural resistance to the cold, living so far to the north. Redguards have outstanding stamina that I suppose comes naturally to desert dwellers. We Bretons have a knack for magic and tend to become mages. Then there are the Imperials from Cyrodil, and the Akaviri from across the sea... we are all the same, save for what are probably just regional differences. Not like the elves, who have less in common with each other. High elves have more magicka at hand and like to flaunt it, while wood elves are more connected to nature and dark elves-"

She cut herself off with a yelp as Dean pulled his door open and climbed back in, startling her. "Alright, let's get to Bobby's," he proclaimed, sounding agitated. "We're burning daylight."

Sam sent his older brother a scowl, which Dean received with confusion.

Val sank a bit further back into her seat, going back over what she had so unthinkingly babbled on about and hoping that she had not revealed anything sensitive to herself in the process. She didn't think that there was anything that would come back on her in that little speech, but the paranoia that Val had woken up with a few days prior had returned regardless.

"So, you were saying about those elves..." He didn't have much hope that she would continue to tell him about 'her world', but Sam asked regardless. It still wasn't clear whether she was leading them on or just crazy, but she seemed to be fairly sure that this stuff existed.

All of that had yet to be seen, but he would humor her as long as it kept her calm and gave them information.

"Yes, ah... they are just as plentiful in Nirn as humans," she said lamely. She did not continue.

'Well,' he thought. 'So much for that.' She was obviously uncomfortable now. Maybe she had said something that she didn't mean to?

"Nirn- is that where you're from?" Dean pressed, taking initiative.

"It's what we call our world as a whole."

"What about those places that you mentioned back at Southern Hills? Way-something?"

"Wayrest is the city in which I was born. It is located in High Rock, which is west of Skyrim and north of Hammerfell. These are, of course, all nations within Tamriel, which is the largest known- and most explored- continent in Nirn."

All of this information was given with a matter-of-fact tone that belied a strong belief in her words. Either she was a very good liar and had been over this before, or she actually believed it.

Sam was not so close minded as to completely rule out the possibility that she was from another world; he just wanted to rule out as much from their own world as possible before settling on the more fantastic possibilities. The best way to prove whether she was telling the truth or taking them for a ride with her stories, it seemed, was to watch out for any differences when she repeated most of this to Bobby later and keep her distracted while they did their research.

The second goal here would be a lot more simple if they could get her talking again- she seemed to tune a lot out when you engaged her in an interesting conversation.

They both tried to get her going again- not getting very far- as they pulled off down a side road and came up on a sign proclaiming the next lot to be 'Singer Salvage Yard'. She had clammed up again, though, and just seemed more uncomfortable the more they pressed her for information.

Val glanced about nervously as the car pulled to a stop. Sam and Dean both got out of the car, Dean going up to the door and knocking while Sam stayed back with her and opened the door. Val climbed awkwardly from the vehicle, legs sore from the long ride. She felt a pull toward the back of the car as she neared it and gritted her teeth in recognition- she at least knew where the Scroll had been stored, even if it was a small comfort. She wanted to be as far from the infernal thing as possible, but her conscience would not have allowed it; the mayhem that could be caused by and with the artifact would be more of a burden to her than the task of protecting it.

A small commotion by the door to the nearby house caught her attention. Dean was speaking to an older man with a gruff appearance and voice. Well, the man was doing most of the speaking. By speaking, of course, she meant admonishing. It was actually quite comical. He called the younger man an 'idjit' a few times, and wondered aloud why he put up with either of the brothers. She caught Sam's expression faltering, as he fought off a grin as his brother looked to him for help.

Val knew that she was here to be interrogated and that things probably would not stay as peaceful as they had since she had left the asylum, but she felt a bit of optimism nonetheless at the thought that these people might listen to her.

As foolish as she knew it to be, Valera _hoped_.

**Thanks to Chocoluv99, happy potato, MysticTaloness and Guest for the reviews!**

**Also, I am now playing Elder Scrolls Online on the XBox One. I usually play solo, but I go by the same name there that I do here, and I'm in the Dominion if you ever want to run with me.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Woo, longer chapter! This one comes courtesy of my wonderful fiance, who helped me get my butt in gear and write. Warning for the slaughter of a fictional language in this chapter. Please forgive me.**

* * *

Bobby Singer, as she came to know him, reminded her of a mentor that she had learned from when she first set out to hone her magic so many years ago. He was guarded at first. She could honestly not blame him; if magic was truly so rare here, he most likely did not know what to make of her. After the tests, though- for what else could these seemingly random tasks be if not tests? Touch this metal, drink this, step here, and what in the name of the Nine was a _christo_?- he seemed to warm a bit and allowed the other two to remove her bindings.

"Don't know what the hell you are, but we'll find out eventually. You haven't tried to suck out anyone's soul or set anything on fire, though, so I guess I can give you a little leeway. Just don't touch nothin'."

Val smiled slightly as she rubbed her , she had heard that one before. Well, everything but the soul sucking part. She was a pyromancer, not a necromancer for the Divine's sake.

Dean left the room for a moment as Sam settled into a chair and leafed through a book that seemed to have seen better days. After a quick glance around, she realized that many of the volumes within the home were either ancient or worn. She shivered at the thought of getting to pick through the ancient tomes, but quickly dismissed this fantasy as impossible- they were not demanding answers of her as she had expected, but she still did not feel trusted, p er say. All three of the men carried weapons that she had seen on the guards in the hospital at their hips, and Val recognized the shapes of a few concealed knives. There were no doubt more than that, but she knew enough from her last bout of 'adventuring' across Skyrim to know how to spot a hidden blade or two. Or four. Or... by the gods, was that a solid silver dagger...?

Right. So, she was free to wander a bit (supervised, of course) but any sudden movement would result in a painful death before she would be able to say 'Sithis'.

Bobby gestured to a chair opposite the desk in the room and took a seat in the one opposite this, in front of the fireplace. Val sat down and glanced about uneasily, feeling aloof.

"These books must have taken a great many years to acquire," she commented quietly.

"Decades," he agreed. He said nothing else, though- simply dug into one of the tomes.

After a moment, Dean came back with a few small crinkling objects. He tossed one to Sam and dropped another into her lap, before sitting in the other desk chair and opening a folding metal book of some kind. Val watched as he tore open one end of the thing and folded the clear wrapping back, then began eating the contents. Val examined the one that he had given her and realized that it was a cake in a thin wrapping. She emulated Dean in opening the morsel and bit into it tentatively, her eyes widening at the sweetness. It was a cream filled yellow sponge cake, and she decided that she loved it.

As they ate and read, Bobby asked her to relate the story of how she had come to be in their world. Sullenly, Val recounted the events of the last few days to the three. She stopped to clarify and explain from time to time, as there was much in Nirn that did not exist in 'Earth', apparently. She grew frustrated as she tried to recall the last moments of the harrowing ordeal- she remembered the scroll coming open as she wrestled it from the Thalmor agent, screaming in pain as she fought to clear his lightning cloak. There was a flash, and she was falling... a blow to the head... a loud screech as a pair of lights veered to avoid her...

"That must have been when you were found on the side of the road," Sam surmised. "What, exactly, IS an elder scroll? Why would they want it so much?"

Val sighed. "The scrolls are... difficult to explain. What they hold is not really known. It takes a lifetime of preparation to simply read one, and even then there is a risk of going mad upon seeing it. Prolonged studying of a scroll is guaranteed to cause blindness, though. The Moth Priests that dedicate their lives to the scrolls all end up blind eventually, and are cared for and compensated by the Cyrodillic empire, who generally employ them in the first place. They are said to hold prophecies and powers that are said to rival even those of the gods."

Dean frowned. "Could they cause a guy to start ranting in another language? Or, y'know, gibberish?"

"Possibly," she allowed," if the person in question was unprepared. It could damage the mind irreparably and leave someone addled."

"Okay, does this sound familiar to you?" He pulled out the tape recorder and set it to play. They had wanted to show it to Bobby anyway; why not see if she fit the crazy doctor's ramblings into her story, as well?

The man's mumbling was unsettling, to say the least. Sam and Dean had heard it in person, so this wasn't quite as bad, but Bobby seemed perplexed by the unfamiliar words. Val was confused as well, though she seemed to be ruminating on the recording.

"What the hell was that...?" Bobby wondered aloud, trying to think of every dead language that he had come across recently.

"Unless that was one of your languages, I would have to say... ancient Ayleid."

Sam sat a bit straighter, although Dean and Bobby gave each other a look that suggested doubt. "You can understand that?"

Val bit her bottom lip. "Not... exactly. The Ayleids were a race of elves that lived in Cyrodil long before humans did, and I visited one or two of their ruins after moving there from my family home in High Rock. I picked up a bit from an argonian that was in charge of a particularly interesting dig." After a few seconds of thought, she motioned to the tape. "Here, play it again."

Dean pressed play, and they sat in silence as Val listened. "La is time... lalor... laloria would be 'dark times'. Heca... hec_u_. Heculmora is outcast... daedra? That's probably not right..." She listened again. "Sunna is 'blessed'. Sunnator would be 'blessed wood'."

The ramblings of the crazed man tapered off as the tape came to an end. Val frowned. "Dark times, daedra and blessed wood. Probably a prophecy of some sort. They have a few different doom prophecies back home that this could be in reference to. Poor man, though. Was he the one who tried to read the scroll while I was in that asylum?"

Sam and Dean nodded, as Bobby flipped through a small notebook, searching for anything that could involve blessed wood- which, surprise, encompassed quite a few things. "What's a 'daedra'?" he asked.

"They're the creatures of Oblivion," she explained. "Mostly evil, though it depends on which plain they come from and the prince that they serve. Conjurers deal with them for the most part, to gain power and what have you, although it doesn't take magic to get mixed up with them- many daedra love to interfere in the lives of us mortals. If you're lucky, you come out intact and without some horrible curse. If you're unlucky... well, death is preferable to eternal enslavement or having your soul stolen away, but death doesn't guarantee that you'll be safe from them." Val was very serious as she said this, suppressing a shiver. "Especially with the more vicious princes like Molag Bal or Mehrunes Dagon," she added.

"Demons, then," Dean simplified. "You guys have demons."

Sam shook his head. "So, outcast demons."

"Sounds like Crowley to me," Dean observed.

"No telling where he's concerned."

"Lets not go looking for trouble," Bobby warned as Val watched the exchange in confusion.

"What are... never mind. The scrolls can foretell events that will happen tomorrow or a thousand years from now. It may even be referencing a past event. There is really no telling, especially with three words out of who knows how many." Val was pensive, trying to reason it out as the other three shared a look. She really believed that the recording was of a prophecy.

Dean frowned and focused on the pages that he had pulled up on the laptop. All of this was making less sense by the minute.

* * *

After a few hours, Sam had been sent out to bring back food- pizza, to be exact. Val didn't know what that was, but she was all for food. The little sponge cakes were good, but she had stopped at two, recognizing an impending stomach ache with dread.

Bobby had located a book for her that contained stories and facts about creatures of the supernatural in this world, which were apparently largely malign. He had explained that there were certain people, such as himself and the Winchesters, who hunted these creatures to keep the general population safe. Most people, however, did not know about the existence of anything beyond their mundane world and passed the results of these hunts off as insanity and illusion- and crime, apparently- until they were presented with real, tangible, undeniable evidence to the contrary.

This particular book, which detailed 'faerie' creatures, was deemed to be safe for her to read. In other words, it did not contain sensitive information that could be used against the others. Bobby must have thought it amusing to have her read such a thing. It was clear, after all, that they were skeptical of much of her story. In truth, it was amusing- Val had to smother a giggle as she ran across a section on elves in the book, and envisioned one of the more arrogant Altmer of her home land being relegated to tasks like tacking the soles onto shoes or sewing buttons onto coats for any of the races of man. She soon became immersed in the stories and lost track of time.

Dean got up to get something from the kitchen, and motioned for Bobby to follow him. Once they were alone, Dean rounded on the older hunter. "So, what do you think?" he asked, confident that Bobby would know what he meant.

"What do I think?" he growled. "I think that that was the biggest crock of bullshit that I've ever heard- and I've babysat you two idjits for most of your lives!"

"I know, I know," Dean dismissed. "Not the fairy tail crap. I meant about her. What do you think she is? I can't find anything online, but I did find something weird with that ring and her necklace- they were rocking all kinds of mojo, though I couldn't tell what kind. Plus, that knife she had on her? It's hand forged and has these symbols on them that I've never seen."

Bobby glanced through the doorway to where she sat in silence, reading. "She was able to leave the devil's trap under the carpet when you showed her the bathroom earlier, and she didn't react to the holy water I had Sam bring her earlier either. My bet's on a crazy kid who got a hold of some things she didn't understand."

Dean scowled. "What about that scroll, though? That thing really did a number on the guy at the hospital."

"Keep it around," Bobby suggested with a shrug. "Maybe I'll give one of you boys some light reading next time you decide to get your dumb asses into trouble-"

Val jumped as the door in the hallway opened, breaking the companionable silence that she had enjoyed as the other two hunters were whispering in the kitchen. They broke off and went back to their seats, wanting to make sure that they had their eye on Val.

"Dean," Sam called from the entryway. "So you'll never guess who I ran into in town."

Sam entered, a large white box that presumably held the 'pizza' in hand. He was followed by someone else. He was tall (they all were, compared to the petite breton girl) and dark haired, with some sort of long tan coat or cloak and wide blue eyes. Val frowned, feeling... something, as the man entered the room. It was almost magika, but not... quite...

Dean looked surprised. "Cas? What's up?"

"I picked up on a major disturbance of some sort a few states over from here, and wanted to get your help in locating the cause. My search for an answer has not been successful."

As he spoke, he kept his gaze to the other occupants of the room. He had not even noticed her, and with the uneasiness that came with the odd not-magika feeling, she wasn't sure that she wanted him to.

"We haven't heard of anything," Dean began. "Last tip we got was from a buddy of Bobby's who put us into contact with a guy earlier trying to get the FBI to take Val here away. We haven't gotten crap since then."

Val winced slightly as she was mentioned... then froze as those wide eyes turned to her. Oddly enough, though, his next expression was confusion. "Hello," he greeted cautiously. "What are you?"

Sam froze as he was setting down the pizza. Bobby's head shot up from the book that he had been scanning, and Dean's hand automatically went for his gun.

Nobody moved for a moment, until Sam finished setting the box down and turned to the scene with forced calm. "That's what we've been trying to figure out," he explained to Cas, eyes flickering to Val as if reassessing her as a threat. "She claimed to be human, but from another world."

Castiel frowned. "That would be highly unlikely- however, it is as good an explanation as any, because she is not a creation of God."


	7. Chapter 7

**_I bet that you guys thought that I had forgotten about you. Well, you're wrong! I- wait. Where am I? Who are you?_**

**_Fun Fact: The first half of this was written using the voice recognition feature on my fiance's phone. Critique it extra hard for me, 'cause it was pretty bad before!_**

**_Onward!_**

**_(Edit 9/2/16: So my page breaks were eaten by the site when I pasted this chapter, apparently. Thank you, Guest000 and Face15, for pointing that out! I'll also work on making these a bit longer. Also, I don't know whether you guys on the alert list will get one for the change in content here, but if you do, I'm sorry. It's just a minor tweak. :P)_**

* * *

Valera had been told at various points in her life that she had many redeeming qualities. She was very passionate when it struck her fancy and she - in her own opinion- had decent skill with a blade. Magic, of course, she excelled at, and occasionally she had even been described as motherly by some of the other students in the college.

That is not to say that she was without fault, or that these faults in any way were few. Val was a terrible swimmer. She spoke in circles when she became nervous, could not hold liquor to save her life, and she could be rash in difficult situations, rarely thinking her next move through when under pressure.

Val was under a lot of pressure at the moment.

She had to admit that the idea had not been the best. Of course, what sort of idea that ended with one running through the woods in the middle of the night tended to be in any way good?

The situation had become tense back at Bobby's house, and the past day that she had spent assessing the situation and trying to work herself into a more favorable position among the hunters had been rendered useless with a few words. Whoever that man had been, his word must have carried a lot of weight for their opinion of her to change so swiftly. Not that she hadn't been expecting it- Val knew that without proof to back her words, everything that she said would be in question, and she had been awfully chatty.

Branches snagged her robes and occasionally cut through to her skin as she dashed through the darkness in an effort to put as much space between herself and the hunters as possible. She ignored these small scratches for the moment; her amulet would take care of them. She did not have the magic to spare for healing simple wounds. No, she had drained what little power that she had possessed at the time on the two spells that helped her to escape the home of Mr. Bobby Singer.

Just after the newcomer- Castiel- had made his announcement, the two brothers had convened in the kitchen along with the others to discuss the situation at hand. They had been at it for a few minutes, but during this time, Val had become more and more convinced that the lot of them would turn on her- and so, to her panic ridden mind, only one solution seemed to be viable.

Escape.

Although it sounded simple enough, the quick use of a muffle spell and an invisibility spell in tandem and an even faster dash out the door had left her drained of magic and in quite the predicament.

So, having burned the only bridge that she possessed in this strange world, and without any other plans to speak, off she ran into the night.

Obviously, the Elder Scroll would be an issue. It would be unwise and irresponsible for her to leave it in the hands of anyone who was unaware of its true power- not to mention the fact that it could be her only way home.

Slowing just a bit now that she had put a fair amount of distance between herself and her pursuers, Val took the time to assess her situation and try to salvage it as best as possible… hopeless though it may be. She needed some sort of shelter, that much would be obvious. She was on the verge of exhaustion and was quite possibly being pursued. Surely a place like this would have an inn of some sort, where she could catch her breath and hide out for a little while. She wandered along the roadway until a light appeared in the distance. She headed for this, more out of curiosity than anything, and was pleased to find that it was the same rest stop that they had been to earlier in the day. Val knew that it was a bit foolish to return to a place that she had been to with the Winchester brothers, but the sight of any sort of civilization was a welcome one after stumbling through the woods for an hour or more.

She approached it cautiously, an eye out for the brothers in case they had come this way, and watched warily for a moment as large mechanical constructs similar to the one that she had been in earlier came and went. Eventually, she approached one of the drivers and despite the odd looks that she received, asked the man if he knew where she might possibly find a room for the night. After a moment's confusion he pointed down the road opposite of the way that she had come and informed her that there was a hotel not too far down that way. Assuming that hotel was this place's word for an inn, she thanked the man and set off in that direction, though not oblivious to the strange look that he gave her as she walked away.

There was another problem that she was going to encounter soon- one that she had already anticipated. She had none of this world's currency, and all of the valuables that she could have bartered with- excluding the amulet and ring, which she would only part with as a stone dead corpse- were in the possession of the very people that she was currently hiding out from. Loathe as she was to use it, though, Val had a spell that would also solve this very problem if she could only build up enough power for it. She glanced at her arms briefly and, reassured that her amulet had indeed taken care of her cuts, Val focused on her magic levels and started to cast as soon as she was confident that she could. She focused on remembering how to use transmute, which she had picked up about a year ago while traveling with a friend. Usually, the use of this spell left a bad taste in her mouth- almost like she was stealing something somehow- but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Holding up the silver coin that had been given to her earlier in the day during the odd tests that she had been put through, Val focused her magic and, with quite a bit of effort, transmuted the silver piece into solid gold. The coin had some heft to it, so hopefully it would be enough to cover at least one night in the inn. Exhausted, but now slightly more optimistic than she had been in the past few hours, Val approached what seemed to be a conglomeration of buildings made up of rooms- a very large inn, if that's what this indeed was. She made her way to the brightly-lit glass-fronted building that seemed to be the entrance and, seeing that the Innkeeper was busy, collapsed in a chair to wait her turn as well as catch her breath after her run through the woods.

The wait was not long and before she knew it, the other person had left without even a glance her way, allowing her to approach the innkeeper's desk. Val was quite nervous at this point- mostly due to the fact that this Innkeeper appeared to be giving her the same strange look that she had received back at the rest stop. 'It has to be the robes,' she thought. She had not seen anyone else around wearing anything even remotely similar to what she sported.

"I'd like a room for the night, sir," she said softly. "I do not have much, but hopefully this will cover the expense." She slipped the coin onto the desk as she spoke.

The Innkeeper look slightly annoyed. "I can't take that," he said matter-of-factly. "Credit cards only. Definitely not gold or whatever the hell that is. Where does someone even find something like that anyway? This isn't a pawn shop, you know."

Val, taken aback, swallowed hard and tried not to let her nervousness show. "I-it is indeed gold. The only thing that I own. Please, sir. Can you not spare even one room-"

"I just told you, lady. Credit cards only. No cash, no gold, and certainly not whatever that thing is supposed to be. Now, get out of here before I call the cops."

Valera took a step back from the now agitated innkeeper. "Could you at least tell me how to get to-"

"What did I just say? Get going. I'll have you know, my cousin's on the force, and he knows the sheriff. He'd have her down here in, like, five minutes." As he spoke, the man picked up an oblong device that had been sitting near his elbow on the desk through the entire conversation and started to stab at it with his finger. Val didn't know exactly what it was, but she recalled a moment from her romp through the hospital, when one of the guards had come over the nurse's station after her. He had grabbed a similar device as she had slipped away to distance herself from him and the man had used it to call in reinforcements of some kind from a group that he had called 'Nine-One-One'.

Apparently, these 'cops' were the local guards for the area, and he was calling them in.

Snatching the coin from the desk, Valera gave the man one last look and dashed from the inn, running further down the road. She really didn't want to head back into the forest so soon, but with the situation at hand, it was looking to be unavoidable.

A few of the metal vehicles passed her by, one even bleating a loud noise somehow as it went. This was accompanied by someone leaning out of the window and shouting for her to get out of the road. As rude as the woman was, it still shocked Val enough that she complied- landing her ankle deep in mud.

Val groaned and pulled herself out of the ditch, only to slide right back in again. This time she soaked the front of her robe.

Anger getting the best of her, she screeched wordlessly and punched the ground before attempting to haul herself out again. The bruise on her side from colliding with something on her way out of the Singer salvage yard ached from a second impact, this time with the ground, but she grit her teeth and bore through it. Wet, muddy and miserable, Val trudged along the side of the road for almost ten minutes, contemplating the merits of returning to the Winchesters and accepting whatever fate they doled out.

Right up until another car drew up beside her, this one topped by flashing blue and red lights. It pulled just a bit ahead and stopped. Val, confused and blinded slightly by the lights, stood and waited as a figure climbed out of the driver's side and approached, a quizzical and slightly exasperated expression on her face.

It took her a few seconds longer than it probably should have, but realization finally dawned on Valera, and she sighed in defeat.

This was turning out to be one of the longest nights of her life.

* * *

"That was… unexpected," Castiel remarked as Sam and Dean looked around the empty room in horrified fascination.

All that the four of them- Sam, Dean, Bobby and Castiel- had heard to suggest that anything was wrong was an odd sound, as if someone had dropped a glass and then cut the sound short, and the soft click of the front door closing not even ten seconds later. The girl was gone, and had left little trace as to her whereabouts.

It had seemed almost as if she had used magic or some other power to disappear once she had made it outside, except for a small scrap of burnt orange material- the same shade as the robes that they had given back to her- that was caught in the rusted hood of one of Bobby's cars, as if she had gotten snagged on it as she fled. It was near the front gate, but aside from that, they saw no clue as to where she had gone.

Dean cursed, as Sam shook his head, at a loss. "She must've hauled ass," Dean griped as he stalked over to the Impala and opened the driver's side. "C'mon, Sammy. She couldn't have gotten far-"

"We still have that scroll thing, right?" Sam asked suddenly, cutting his brother off.

"Yeah…?" he began, confused and more than a little frustrated, until he realized the implications. "Yeah, we do." He closed the door in a tight, deliberate motion and joined Sam at the back of the car. "Let's see if Cas knows anything about it. Maybe we can lure her back."

"She was pretty protective of it," Sam agreed. "The jury's still out on whether she needs to be put down, but I'm pretty sure that we don't just have some crazy kid on our hands. We just need to figure out what it is we_ are_ dealing with, before she starts shooting a place up with fireballs again."

Dean nodded his agreement as he opened the trunk and gingerly handed his brother the wrapped up scroll. "Here. Merry frickin' Christmas. You can do the research with Cas- I'll see what Bobby thinks."

Sam rolled his eyes and followed his brother back inside the house, holding the scroll as far from his body as he could as they walked.

* * *

"Thank you for the cloak," Val said quietly from the back of the vehicle, which seemed to be for prisoners and miscreants, if the metal grating between herself and the female guard, or 'Sheriff Mills' as she had introduced herself, was any indication. The woman had given her the coat, which she claimed to keep as a spare, when Val had begun shivering on the roadside during her questioning. Being wet on a chilly night was not ideal, and while this woman seemed as if she could be stern, she spoke kindly to Val and treated her as if she would bolt at a moment's notice.

The way that officer Mills was speaking, slowly and with exaggerated calmness, seemed to suggest that she suspected Valera of drunkenness or a mental impairment of some sort. Honestly, what with her being incarcerated anyway, Val did not mind much. She preferred this over having one of the 'stun guns' that the guards at the hospital had possessed waved in her face.

"So… Val," Jody Mills began, again, slowly. "Were you at the hotel down the road twenty minutes ago?"

Val hung her head. "I… yes. I was."

"Mm-hmm. I received a call from the concierge about a mentally disturbed woman hassling him. Can you tell me what you were doing there?"

"I… I only needed a room. He would not take my payment, though, and told me to leave."

Officer Mills gave her a hard look in the rearview mirror. "Alright, then what about the possibly stolen merchandise that you tried to bribe him with?"

Val's head shot up, and she scoffed in outrage. "Stolen? I did not steal anything. It was a simple gold coin, and he made it very clear that I could not pay with it. I do not have any of this country's currency, so I was forced to leave."

"'This country'. Val… You aren't here illegally, are you…?"

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "I beg your pardon? I don't understand."

The sheriff sighed. "Do you have paperwork? Are you a legal citizen?"

Val felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. "No, I, ah… I am not from around here. BUT," she stressed, "The circumstances by which I arrived are not something that I had control over, and I am currently working on returning to my homeland."

"Uh-huh," the sheriff drawled, glancing to her radio. "Right. So, Val, where are you from?"

Valera was silent for a few seconds, debating whether to tell her. "I came here from High Rock, in the land of Tamriel. Well, not here specifically, but the only people who would know exactly where I was found would probably be the ones who brought me to your town."

"Who would that be, now?" she asked Val, a bit more cautious since the Breton had become so much more talkative.

Val swallowed hard. "They, ah… they called themselves Sam and Dean."

Val shrieked slightly as the woman slammed on the brakes. She turned to pin her with a glare. "Winchester?"

Still shaking in fear from the abrupt stop, Val nodded. Jody Mills cursed, then turned to lean on the wheel, one arm slung across it and the other over her face. "Of all the damn luck- why were you with Sam and Dean Winchester?!"

"I- I, ah…"

"Never mind, I'll find out for myself."

Val's heart raced as the woman reached for another of those 'phone' devices. She was going to contact them? "No, please! I can't-" Val's mouth snapped shut as officer Mills turned to face her again.

"Why not?"

Val didn't answer, instead staring out the front wind shield in horror. "Oh gods, we need to move," she rasped.

Jody turned in time to see what had her suspect in such a state.

One look was all that she needed, before she threw the car into reverse and turned the wheel hard, missing the ball of flames that had come hurtling at them. The action landed them partially in a ditch.

Jody cursed as she yanked off her seat belt and dove from the car, stopping to pull the other girl from the back before dragging her to safety as another volley hit its target, setting the car on fire.

* * *

_**Yeah, so I kinda exploded Jody's car.**_

_**I'm starting on the next chapter as soon as this is posted, so hopefully I won't leave you guys hanging with this for nearly a year again.**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: GASP! An update in less than THREE MONTHS?! QUICK! EVERYBODY TO THE BUNKER!**_

_**It's just a bit shorter than the last few, but I didn't want to leave you guys on such a cliff hanger. At least this one doesn't have lives in the balance.**_

_**Also, apologies to the reviewer that wanted dragons- though that would've been cool and I thought about it at one point, this was what kept the plot from spinning out of my control. Also, while I will go ahead and say that this doesn't have a romance aspect to it because I am terrible at that (even though I am a girl omgwhatevenarestereotypeslel), you can ship whatever you want and I am in fact honored to have someone shipping Val and Dean. QwQ**_

_**Also, because I haven't said it in a bit, I don't own anything but the OC's, and even they're debatable.**_

* * *

The ringing of one of his many phones caught Bobby's attention as he fiddled with a police scanner, focusing momentarily on an incoming report of a mentally impaired woman at a local hotel. After a glance confirmed that it was one of his personal numbers, Bobby snatched it up.

"Who is this and how did you get this nu- "

"_OH MY GOD FIREBALLS- I DON'T EVEN KNOW ANYMORE! BOBBY SINGER YOU SEND THOSE BOYS OVER HERE RIGHT NOW AND TELL THEM TO HAUL ASS!"_

"Jody?!" Bobby leaned forward, voice raised in response to the sheriff's yelling. "What's going on? Where are you?"

"_I don't know- I responded to a call about the hotel down from the gas station. I can't be more than five minutes down the- HELL! VAL, GET DOWN!"_

There was a metallic squawking, and the line went dead.

Bobby cursed as creatively as he could as he slammed the phone down and yelled for Sam and Dean. The brothers nearly tripped over each other coming in through the front door.

"Got a call from Jody. I think she's found our girl, but something's happening out there. Make sure you two idjits go in packing- there's a literal firefight going on."

* * *

"That was my _phone_, you son of a bitch!"

Jody's outrage came from behind the still smoldering wreckage of her car, which had exploded shortly after the second volley of fireballs that had been launched at them. The melted remains of her cell phone sat a little way away, where it had been dropped as she had tackled the younger girl, Valera, to avoid another attack.

Their attacker looked like someone had ripped him out of a fantasy novel then thrown him into a paper shredder. The once lavish cloak that he wore had been ripped along the bottom and sported many holes, and the hood would have only covered half of his head if he had been wearing it up. The black and gold theme couldn't be missed, even if everything was a bit dirty and singed.

He sported shoulder length silvery-red hair that had been pulled back into a tight braid at one time, but was now hanging from his head like a fuzzy, limp caterpillar. The high cheekbones and sharp angles of his face, while highly unusual and strange, could have allowed him to pass for somewhat normal had he not sported a golden skin tone that, while a bit sallow, could not be confused for anything human.

Despite all of this, he managed to sneer at them as if they were dirt upon his boot.

He continued to approach them, not even giving the gun that Jody had pulled from her holster more than a disparaging glance. "You were surprisingly easy to find," he taunted. "despite how alarming it was to see how far you had managed to flee- then again, one would be eager to disappear with the might of the Dominion after them."

"Ho-how did you find me? How are you even here?" Though she never took her eyes off of the man before them, Jody frowned at Val's words. She knew this guy…?

"A clairvoyance spell, obviously," he spat. "And here I was thinking that you would be intelligent. So much for that. As for how I am here- that is something that _you_ will help me determine once I have retrieved the Scroll."

Val scowled. "Even if I did have it right now, I would never allow it to fall into your hands. Divines only know what you and your lot would do with it- "

"Where is it?" he hissed, one hand extended to prepare a spell of flames. "What have you done with it?"

"I don't know what the hell this is about, but you WILL put the magical crap away, or I will shoot!"

The elf started forward, obviously not familiar with the sight of a gun. As he cast, Jody fired- the bullet struck his left arm, catching him by surprise and causing his concentration to break from his spell, though not before he was able to loose a gout of flames in their direction.

It was Val's turn to shove Jody out of the way of danger. The girl jumped in while simultaneously throwing up a ward with what little magic had returned to her, gritting her teeth in anticipation of pain.

The flames rolled against her ward in angry orange waves, but it held fast. Val could feel some of the magicka from the hastily cast spell flow into her own reserves, thanks to her Breton heritage. She dropped the ward as Jody moved in on the elf, a pair of cuffs in her hand already.

The Thalmor agent in question was clutching his arm and trying to stand; the shock of a bullet tearing into his muscle was a new pain that he was wholly unprepared for. A bump in the inner pocket of his cloak reminded him, though, of his last resort, that not even his fellow soldiers or their superior officer had known that he possessed.

A glimpse of something off-white in the high elf's hand gave Jody pause. "What's that-?"

Val's heart shot up into her throat as she recognized the shape of a spell scroll. "Don't let him use it!" she shouted. They both dove for him, but he already had it open. In the few short seconds that it took for them to reach him, he had sped through the incantation and activated the scroll.

Jody wrenched the now burning scroll from his hands and slapped the cuffs on him in a few quick motions, as Val moved to put herself between the cop and whatever had just been summoned. This whatever took the form of a black and gray skinned humanoid with a splash of red across its face, a set of short horns on its head and a set of black robes. Its black eyes observed them all balefully.

"Really? A dremora, you fetcher?" Val muttered.

"_Kill them,_" the elf ordered. "Then set me free."

The creature stared back, expressionless for a moment.

Frustrated, the elf repeated himself. "I _order_ you to kill these two and free me!"

Again, the dremora stared… then, with deliberate slowness, a sharp-toothed grin spread across its face just before it disappeared in a flash of violet light.

The elf merely sat and blinked for a few seconds as the shock set in. Here he was, sitting in the middle of a dark roadway with an injured arm and depleted magicka reserves, and his only hope just leaves? What in Oblivion?

Val and Jody weren't comprehending this any more easily.

Jody looked from the confused expressions of the others to the spot from which the creature had fled. "I'm guessing that that wasn't supposed to happen," she surmised as she checked her gun over and trained it on the elf.

"No. No, that was not supposed to happen." Val, while worried about the escaped summon, checked that the high elf indeed was incapacitated. He sat motionless, still trying to think of a way out of this and figure out how a bound summon was capable of just leaving a fight like that. "There are very few ways that we could find out where it went, though. We should focus on keeping our original problem contained for now."

"I agree." Jody crouched to meet their new prisoner's eye level. "It's pretty obvious that I can shoot your ass before you can do your magic," she said, her tone dangerous. "You just keep that crap to yourself and I may not have to give you a matching hole in your other arm." With that out of the way, she quietly asked Val if she knew anything about first aid. She nodded and healed the bullet wound just enough for it to stop bleeding.

The threat snapped the elf out of his shock. His vibrant blue eyes narrowed in anger. "Whatever torture you have planned for me will bear no fruit. I am a Thalmor justiciar. We do not break so easily."

Val stared at him with an unreadable expression. "Officer Mills, were you able to convey our position to Mr. Singer?"

Jody nodded. "The boys should be on their way now. Good thing, too- the Winchesters aren't half bad at making up explanations for things like this, and I can't think of a decent excuse for my car up and exploding."

Val nodded wearily, that somewhat uncomfortable look on her face, and sat cross-legged on the ground, her head in her hands.

* * *

It didn't take too long for the familiar black car to pull up alongside the wreckage. Truth be told, the small group was lucky that no other vehicles had happened upon them during this mess, although the billowing smoke from Jody's poor cruiser would not go unnoticed for very long.

Sam was the first to get out, before the Impala had even finished rolling to a stop. His expression was etched with worry, which melted into confusion as he realized that the one behind the fireballs that Jody had been panicking over was not Val, but the bedraggled, yellow-skinned man that was being held at gun point by the sheriff.

"Ooo-kay," Dean said as he approached the small group and stopped next to his younger brother. "This isn't weird or anything," he added before addressing Val." One of your 'elves'?"

The girl in question sighed heavily and stood up off of the asphalt. "One of the high elves, yes. A Thalmor agent that somehow pursued me from my world."

The elf sneered and made as if to say something, but a cleared throat and slightly inclined head from Jody shut him up. His eyes moved from the woman to the gun near his face and back, before he clenched his jaw and remained silent.

"Right," the eldest Winchester drawled. "We'll talk about your little jog out here in the wilderness later. Right now, this is a problem. Can this guy still use his magic stuff?"

"My gun is the only thing keeping him from burning us all to a crisp right now. That, and the cuffs, although that's just making things awkward for him," Jody confirmed. "Hi, by the way. I only ever seem to see you two when there's something like this happening."

"Sorry, Jody," Sam said. "Maybe next time we'll get to visit without someone trying to kill us all."

"I doubt it," she muttered. Then, slightly louder, "My hand's cramping from holding this thing up. Would you mind switching with me?"

Dean pulled a gun from somewhere in his coat and handed the piece to his brother. "I've got to drive, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes, but checked the gun and trained it on the bound elf, eliciting a searing glare from the mer. Jody lowered hers and, once it was back in her holster with the safety on, rubbed her hand gingerly. "So, this guy blew my car all to hell and messed up the road through here pretty badly. Any idea how I can explain all of this without sounding nuts?"

The brothers looked at each other for help. "Well, maybe… vandalism gone horribly wrong?"

Sam's suggestion was met with uncertainty from the Breton, a lack of amusement from the sheriff and his brother, and a scoff from their prisoner.

"Fine, then. Do any of _you _have an idea?"

Jody rolled her eyes. "I'll just have to work with what we've got. Tell Bobby that I might need some help on this one."

"Got it. Any idea how we can keep this guy from lighting up Baby on the way back?" Dean glanced to his car with concern, not comfortable in the least with the idea of two pyromaniacs sitting in it together.

"Sam's holding it," Jody said, nodding to the younger Winchester. "It takes him longer to shoot a fireball than for someone to shoot a gun. Speaking of- he's got a bullet in his arm. Val stopped the bleeding, but it'll need to come out or it will get infected."

The elf glanced to his arm with worry on his face. "Oh, Auri-El…" he muttered weakly.

"Great. That's perfect," Dean griped. "Well, as long as nobody bleeds on my seats, I guess we'll have to find a way to squeeze all of us into the car- "

"Just you three and him, actually. I need to stay here until someone from the station arrives."

Val shook her head. "It would be unwise for you to stay out here alone, Officer Mills. I have no idea whether that dremora is still in this realm. It could be lurking nearby."

Sam and Dean snapped to attention. "Woah, wait a second- what the hell is a dremora and why was it here?"

"I doubt that it has returned to its own realm. This world would not be protected from the very presence of the creatures as our own is," the elf proclaimed loudly. "It stood for far longer than it should have without any aid on my part." Val glanced toward him in confusion- where was this coming from?

The elf met her gaze and rolled his eyes in derision. "I only say this, of course, because it is more than likely in the woods, listening. I do not know why it did not bend to my will, but as soon as I am free, I will _hunt it down and make it_ **_PINE FOR THE MERCIES OF MOLAG BAL_**."

His rant ended in a shout that echoed into the surrounding woods. Nobody really knew how to respond to this, until Jody cleared her throat to break the awkward silence.

Dean raised an eyebrow at the seething altmer. "Yeah, okay. That's nice and all, but _what's a dremora?_"

Val answered." They are one of the types of daedra. Not nearly as powerful as a Daedric Prince, but well above the minor ones, such as clanfear and banekin."

"Great," Dean groaned. "That's just perfect. Your version of a demon, then. Wonderful." He paced a little, kicking a piece of singed tire that was in the way from the earlier explosion. "We're gonna need to restock on salt before this is over," he muttered.

Sam interrupted his brother's funk. "Okay. There's a lot that we'd like to know, and a lot of questions that need answered, but let's focus on the problem at hand before it starts chucking fireballs again."

The elf glared, but said nothing as he shifted to examine his injury as best as he could, surreptitiously checking the handcuffs as he did. This, of course, alerted Sam, who adjusted his aim slightly. "_Really_? I can see you," he said- the elf ceased his attentions to the cuffs, a few shades paler from something other than blood loss.

Sam shook his head in exasperation. "We've got a demon- er, _dramora_ wandering around out here, and possibly cops on the way. How are we doing this?"

Dean scowled. "If one of us stays and we don't have a car here, it'll look really suspicious. It'd look worse for us to have Legolas here at gunpoint when they show up, though."

The elf looked offended. Again. "My name is not- "

Sam gave him a look and waved the gun a little. He did not finish his complaint.

The group was quiet for a moment as they thought on this issue, the crackle of flames from the still smoldering vehicle the only sound- until what sounded like beating wings came from just outside of their group. Jody, Val and the Thalmor all flinched in fear momentarily as a figure appeared as if from nowhere, though Val calmed slightly to be merely wary when she recognized them. Sam and Dean, however, were relieved.

Dean grinned, albeit a bit sadistically when he noticed the high elf's reaction, which left him in a state vaguely reminiscent of a fish.

"Just in time, Cas."

* * *

_**A/N: Everybody, meet Ormil. He is a douche and also I dislike him but not really because he's so full of himself it's hilarious.**_

_**I will end up writing a companion piece to this story, by the way. It won't be up until this is done, so it'll be awhile (read: a loooong time), but a thing happened and another series snuck in on me and now it's super glued itself to the plot behind the scenes. It won't be obvious until the end, though, so don't worry about it too much.**_

_**Thanks for reading!**_


End file.
